


Approval

by Thaum



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-08 17:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13463127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thaum/pseuds/Thaum
Summary: Life after the battle of bastards. While Sansa tries to protect herself, Jon tries to protect Sansa, Davos tries to protect Jon and Petyr tries to handle all of them, the war goes on. Sometimes it's hard to decide, what's more frightening: the idea of the Night King finally crossing the wall, or of the newly crowned king on a diplomatic mission to Dragonstone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my first language. Life really isn't a song. Does anybody know this Erasure song "I love to hate you"? Should be a meta tag flashing above these two. Be nice.
> 
> More characters wil be added while the work progresses.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The king in the north learns a thing or two about his little sister.

"I don't want Baelish around you. He is cunning, you cannot trust him. He's constantly scheming and plotting behind the backs of everyone." She stared at the bottle in Jons hand, then up into his face. He had obviously been drinking for a while. From down below the noises of the festivities for his coronation (king in the north!) were filling the castle. "And I don't like the way he looks at you. Not at all." She raised a brow. "So you're afraid of _what_ exactly he is doing behind my back?" Jon choked at his beer and spilled a good amount of it at his boots. Sansa flattened her skirt, all the lady outside. "Just talk to me openly Jon. I am not that stupid little girl. Not anymore. No more songs. No knights and princes, maidens and an everlasting summer. Winter is here. We do not have time to sneak around each other." His face had turned an interessting shade of purple. "Don't tell me, he touched you. I am going to kill him." Sansa smiled sadly, "Yes, you would, wouldn't you?" She caressed his cheek and he was clearly totally taken aback with her behaviour. "You live in this world of pride, honour and the right thing to do. Where the weak are saved by the strong and the evil will be crushed by all the good in the world. I wish I could live in that world again. But it is lost to me." Sansa sighed. She tilted her head, trying to decide how much of the truth her noble brother could take spoken aloud. How much  _she_ could take of it.

"Yes Jon, there was a time when he touched me." He drew a deep breath and took a step backwards. "Joffrey beat me bloody, the kingsguard tortured me, Ramsey raped me." Jons knuckles had gone white by the strength he clenched at the bottle in his hands. His face was a mask of pain. "And Petyr, yes he touched me. Caressed my face, held my hands, touched my lips and my heart." She stepped closer again, seeking for his hand for support. "He was the only man who didn't take pleasure in beating me to a pulp. He saved me. He taught me. He cared for me, protected me, when no one else did." Jon seemed trying to stare a hole in her head to process everything. " _HE_ is the reason why you suffered through Ramsey. Don't tell me, you forgave him _that_." Sansa shook her head. "No, I haven't. I know, you're right.. " his shoulders relaxed a little ".. and you're wrong. He  _asked_ me, Jon. He didn't force me. I know his mindgames. I knew even then. But I trusted him. I do not trust him that blindly now. I will never lay my life into the hand of any man again. Not his, not yours, not any husband you fancy to choose for me. I surely learned that lesson well enough." Her next words were nearly a whisper. "If I where there again, that day he asked me, I would tell him no. I would scream at him, as I wanted to. I would slap him. I would cry." She forced the lump in her throat down "I would kiss him." Jon winced like a kicked puppy. She took his hand and whispered "I would give a thousand tomorrows for just that one yesterday."

For a while none of them said anything. "You did it freely..?" Sansa laughed without any trace of humour. "Yes. He told me to avenge my family, to take what is mine. He thought he knew what I wanted. Laid it at my feet and waited for me to jump on it. As he always does. Holding the desires of your heart under your nose." She laughed again. "Oh my, he was so wrong. Yes I wanted revenge. I wanted my home. But that day, I couldn't care less about the game. All I cared for, was him. He was my mentor, my family, I looked up to him. He was my safety. Always so sure about everything, always there. I did it for him. For his dreams to come true. For him to be proud of me. He laid his approval and respect in front of me. And oh my, how much I wanted _that_. And more." "Does he know?" At this point, Jons voice was a raspy and destroyed thing. She took his bottle out of his hand and emptied it in a draw. Then her gaze found Petyr, leaning against the wall in a corner as he did so often. "No, he doesn't," her voice was toneless. "And he never will."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Davos has it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English isn't my first language. Be nice.
> 
> I have a few half ready chapters of this story, but I am not quite sure, if I will post them all. We'll see.

Jon was brooding. It wasn't a very different sight as usual, so nobody really noticed. Sansas speech had literally toppled his world upside down. He felt as if he needed someone to protect himself from things he didn't wanted to know. Maybe from life itself. On top of that he felt sober again, what didn't help the case. But he possibly couldn't drink enough to forget everything he wanted to forget anyway. He stared at the man at the end of the hall. Lord Baelish raised his wineglass at him and smiled ever so slightly. The smile that always said "I know something  _very_ amusing, you don't. Beg me to tell you." The smile that Jon wished to polish off his face everytime he saw it. He forced a polite expression on his face in return, but it looked pained. What the fuck had this man done to his innocent little sister? The voice in his head made Jon feel sick.  _His_ presence made him feel sick. Insufficent. He was always a step too close to feel comfortable with. He knew the things he thought before heself thought of them, he was sure of. He was never surprised, always prepared. Sansa once said, he would fight every battle, everytime, everywhere, in his head. Considerating every possible outcome and had a plan for every one of them. She literally praised his abilities. Indeed, he was an excellent advisor - that he had to admit. And he saved his ass. He had to admit that, too. If it wasn't for him and the army he brought to fight a battle that wasn't his, he would be lying rotting at the gates of Winterfell. Or worse. The facts sounded good. He should be grateful. But it made him just feel more sick. Jon was shit when it came to politics and all the right things to say at the right moments. But he was good when it came to intution. And he didn't like Petyr Baelish. He felt, he was one of the most dangerous men he ever met and he wanted something. He probably couldn't hold up a sword and was by no means a tall man. But he could cast a shadow that blacked out everything in his way. And by the way Petyr Balish smiled at him he felt very much in the way. He never said it aloud, the opposite was true in fact. But somehow he knew, it was not him he wanted to be crowned today. The bad thing was, he himself didn't wanted to be crowned today. "There it is," Jon snorted, "we still have something in common."

He took another sip and stared at his Lord Advisor with loathing the moment he let his attention drift somewhere else when somebody sat next to him and clanked his mug down at the table beside his own. "Trying to kill someone by wishful thinking?" Ser Davos Seaworth asked and patted him at his back. "Don't be too obvious. He must be a fool not to know if you go on like this." "I am sure he knows anyway. He always knows. Everything." Davos chuckled. "If I wouldn't know better, I suspected jealousy." Jon turned to look at Davos as if he had grown a second head he just wished to cut off. Davos raised his hands in defence. "Just joking, your Grace." Jon took another sip. Silence stretched. "What troubles you, boy?" Davos had lowered his voice and offered his comfort to Jon. He had been more of a father to him lately, than Jon ever had his whole life. "He was there, when I should have been." Davos pondered this answer. "He like, _he_?" he tilted his head over the hall into the shadows "And there like  _where_ exactly?" Jon couldn't help but glance at Sansa who was sitting with all the Ladies of the north. Graceful. Beautiful. But oh so bitter inside. How could he not have noticed? He slumped a little, then took another sip. "Ah, _there_. Oh my." Davos studied his hands. "So it IS jealousy?" "Just regret." "For doing or not doing what?" "Protecting her." "From him?" Jon looked back into the old mans face. "From Kings Landing. From him. From life. You do not sound surprised." Davos looked away and took a sip himself. "I may be old, but I am not blind." "Then I may be still dead after all, cause when she told me, I swear, I forgot how to breath." Davos said nothing, but studied Sansa. The way she laughed and chattered, the image of courtesy. The sister of a king. "I always felt there is something," he finally muttered. "I am not so sure what all this is about. Lord Baelish tries to convince us, he plays our game. But I suspect, we are playing it by his rules without realizing. I do not know, what exactly he wants." Davos wore a thoughtful expresssion. "But I believe, she knows. And I believe if she ever starts to care again, there will be not a stone left above the other in this kingdom." Jon wasn't quite sure he could follow. "She hates him," he stated. Davos smiled absently. "Yes, with all of her heart. He made sure of that. He made her a survivor." He patted his hand, "She never needed your protection."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A talk in the Godswood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter. I have the feeling, I won't let Sansa kill Petyr in this story. But I am not sure, there will be a happy end eighter.  
> English isn't my first language. Be nice.

Sansa made her way to the goodswood to enjoy a little bit of peace before her duties would occupy her day. She thought about the feast at the evening before and Jons face as he drowned himself in his ale. He wasn't happy. She could slap herself. Why had she poured her heart out to him? He had enough on his mind. Important things. But it was all the same, everytime. She wanted to tell him just everything. But why THAT piece of information.. Gods.. Somehow it felt like a kind of confession. Something she wanted him to know to.. what.. give her absolution? Forgive her? She couldn't forgive herself, how could he? She would never forget the way he looked at her, as she admitted to once having loved Lord Petyr Baelish. Warden of the East. Savior of Winterfell. Lord Advisor. Selfish, heartless, arrogant prick galore. The way he looked at her, as she blamed herself for her stupidity. As if she were some stranger he didn't knew. And maybe he was right. She sighed and sat down at the bottom of the heart tree. The sun crept up the sky and coloured the clouds different shades of blue and pink. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Sansa startled as she recognized the very man haunting her existence leaning at the trunk a few feet behind her. All in black, lithe, impeccable, as always. She hadn't heard him approaching through the woods, what should be technically impossible, but he managed somehow anyway. Like all the other impossible and unspeakable things he did. The morning started to feel tainted. "Lord Baelish." Her voice was toneless and his smile faltered slightly. Too little for anyone to notice, but her. How she hated to know him so well. She sighed. "Yes it really is. It's peaceful. Quiet and peaceful. But I am afraid I have to leave now to take care of our guests." "Then I'd like to walk you back if you allow." He offered his arm. Sansa stared a few seconds at it before she decided to take it out of courtesy. He smiled at her again and placed his hand above hers like he did so often back in the Vale. It felt a lifetime ago and two different people. They walked in silence a few minutes, snow crunching beneath their feet. "Your brother is king in the north. You have Winterfell. You must be happy today." She glanced at his face, but she couldn't say if he was mocking her. She knew he had had other plans. "Yes. In fact, I am a lot more happier than I was a few weeks ago. But I admit, it has more to do with the permanent absence of my former monster of a husband, than with anything else." She knew, it was a low blow and she watched him from the corner of her eye. He didn't respond. Somehow she wished, he would have at least flinched, but he didn't. She wanted to hurt him. There were times, when she dreamed about beating him until her hands were bleeding. When she hated him more than she hated Ramsay. Ramsay was cruel to a wife he never knew. He hurt her body, but he could never break her, because he never had her in the first place. But HE, he made sure to be in a place, where it totally wrecked her when he betrayed her. It was more pain, then a hundred Ramsays could ever afflict on her. Did he know? Sansa remembered their first meeting after her escape. He swore to her, he didn't know. But how could he not? HE of all people? She told him then, he'd rather be stupid or her enemy. And she knew, KNEW, that Petyr Baelish was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. At that moment she didn't order to kill him off just to be able to make him suffer for a little while longer. That changed later, when he made himself valuable again, when he offered his army to fight for her home. To kill Ramsay. To save her brother. He gave her, what she wanted most. And he laid his life in her hands. Was it still a game to him? Why was he still here? She'd told him she wasn't interessted in undermining her brothers throne and that he should mind his own business. Afterwards he offered his counsel to Jon and when Jon asked her for her opinion about it, she reluctantly had to admit, that there would be no better man for the job in the seven kingdoms. But even if he felt such a thing as remorse, he paid his dept. Silently she asked herself, why he didn't leave while she watched the snow falling down at the trees, her arm, his hair. For a moment, she was back in the Vale, when he kissed her inmidst the snow. It was the first real kiss, she ever shared. It gave her everything. And it took everything away. Her believes, her breath, her heart. The moment passed as fast as it came and she laughed a hard little dry laugh. Cersei had been right all along. "Do not love. The more you love, the weaker you become." How ironic was that. That her worst enemy would give her the most terrible advice, and her once most trusted friend would make it come true. She would never let anyone kiss her again that way. He raised an questioning eyebrow at her and she looked away. She could never forgive him. But hate seemed to her just as pointless, as love. Feelings destroyed the ability to notice the obvious and to do the inevitable. And they weren't more true than justice or the gods who never answered her prayer. If she stopped believing, they would disappear into thin air and stop torturing her. She had the best one to teach her. A man who stopped believing too many years ago to even remember. Everything she had left that was in fact real was Jon. Jon and Winterfell. And she would not worry him any longer. She would make sure, that Winterfell would become great again. That Jon would be the best king the north had ever seen. And if Petyr Baelish had to play a part in that, so let it be. But she would be there to watch Jons back. That was her purpose, she was the only one who could do it. She was done with the naive girl she'd been. She looked back at him. "Once, someone said, the past is gone for good." "And the future is all there is to worry about." "That were your words." "Well, it is a really simple fact. Not even your brother could deny it." He had turned his head, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. Sansa stood. "True, Jon isn't a genius. But people love him, they are supporting him out of solidarity. The only way you get support is by offering opportunities. I cannot help, but I have the dim feeling, that both of you lack something." "Is that so. Then pray, maybe you'll tell me, what role you are playing in all of this?" Sansa snorted unladylike "Me? I am done playing." She felt nothing, as the smirk turned into a smile and travelled all the way up from his lips to his eyes. "Really." Absolutely nothing. She pretended, to be somewhere else.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon wants something. Lord Baelish plays a little game. Davos isn't sure he can trust the most recent developments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love Ser Davos. Everybody should have one. English isn't my first language. Be nice.

"I'd like you to stay for a little longer, Lord Baelish," Jon stated as he released the counsel members after another one of their countless meetings. His head felt like bursting anytime soon, if he'd have to study another map or read another letter from some Lord concerning borders, land, diplomatic bullshit or whatever it was. Being king wasn't fun at all. But he shouldn't complain. He knew, everybody worked hard to support him. Davos was his right hand. Baelish his left. But sometimes he forgot, what he was left supposed to be, feeling utterly stupid, sandwiched that way. He sighed. Baelish stopped collecting his papers and looked up a little surprised, Davos stopped at the door and turned back. "Have we forgotten to address something of importance?" Jon shook his head, "No, no. It's alright Ser Davos, I just like to have a word with Lord Baelish before dinner. If you don't mind." Davos seemed puzzled, but left the room and closed the door behind him. Jon looked at Lord Baelish and couldn't supress a feeling of satisfying smugness, as he noticed the wheels ratteling in the older mans mind. He was tempted to stretch that moment unnecessarily, but that wouldn't be helpful. He had thought half the night about the talk, he just was going to have. It would be hard enough anyways, but it had to be done. He glanced at the little pile of letters in the middle of the table. Proposals. Every day there were a few more, every day he delayed any answer to every question about it. But the questions needed an answer. They needed the right answer. The right time, the right words, the political right choice. He couldn't do it. He didn't want to do it. He started to feel sick again, as he thought about the very man he was just about to ask for help and wished, there would be any other option. Any other option but the very man who shouldn't be trusted with this particular question. But he - Jon - would make sure, the human part of the answer would be right. His was just the inhuman part. Perfect fit. Oh hell, Davos wasn't right. It wasn't a game they were playing, it was a big joke. And a very bad one, too. He cleared his throat. "Lord Baelish." Petyr Baelish bowed his head, "Your Grace?" "I wish to address a few.. matters. You know very well, I am no man of smart words, I am a man of honest words, that's the difference between us." The corner of Baelish lips twitched a little and Jon noticed a little too late, what he just said. "Indeed your Grace." Jon winced and couldn't believe, he mastered to offend himself as well as the man he wanted to ask for a favour in a single phrase and decided to stop trying. He drew a deep breath. "You see, I tried to be nice. But I obviously cannot lie to my own grandmother if my life depends on it. And you obviously aren't my grandmother. I don't like you. You don't like me. We both know. So we might as well stop trying to pretend otherwise. I don't know, why you are here. Davos says, you are manipulating our every decision to your liking. And even if we know and decide the opposite, it would be the same." Baelish tilted his head, "Sir Davos is a underestimated man in many ways." Jon nodded in acknowledgement. "Oh, that he is. Honour demands my gratefulness for your last recent actions. And I am giving that to you. You saved Winterfell, my life. I am in your dept. You may ask, whatever you like from me and I will give it to you, if it is in my power to do so. Honour demands." If Jon was honest, he wasn't quite sure, what he was just about to tell. Fuck the plan he made the night before. All he knew was, whatever words would be spoken in this room, they would be the truth. From himself, as well as from the master of deception who eyed him this very moment, as if he were a very interessting bug. "You did the honorable thing. The selfless thing. But we both know, those are qualities, you are lacking. I don't like you at my best days. And I hate you at my worst." If Baelish was surprised by the open cards on the table, he didn't show. Instead he crossed his arms and just waited. Jon asked himself, if any man ever had the guts to say such a thing into his face and lived to tell the story. "You manipulate everybody around you to serve your cause, regardless the sacrifices, the pain and the loss. I do not assume, to know you. I do not assume, I could even grasp the idea of what it is what drives you. But I don't care. I hate you for everything you did to my sister. Everytime I look into her eyes and she doesn't look back. You possibly cannot understand, how much I hate you for that." he drew a deep breath. "But, however this might be and how much I am disgusted to admit it: I need you here. I need your help." Baelish chuckled without any trace of humour. "That's gold, really.. You are in fact a man of honest words, if nothing else at all." Jon squinted his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line. He had requested clear words, he would hear them out. "After all you telling me that, why should I stay? I could demand my payment and leave today." Jon nodded. "Yes, you could. You could also have get rid of me, but you haven't and I am somehow convinced, that me telling you something you already knew beforehand, does not change any of your previous decisions." Baelish started to look a little amused. "Maybe not only Sir Davos is underestimated. I never thought you to be able of conclusions." Jon plastered a forced smile at his lips. He wouldn't let the man get the better of him. "So.. I am staying, because I've chosen to before." Jon nodded and Baelish smirked. "Why have I chosen to?" Jon looked up, studying the features of the man at the other side of the table. His eyes were glinting and he'd obviously found some kind of entertainment at the current state of their conversation. Jon started to feel unnerved. And Baelish knew. For fucks sake he knew what he thought. Jon stood and walked to look out of the window, leaning at the wood for support. Did he just loose the upper hand? "Because something valuable to you is here." "Why haven't I 'get rid of you'?" Jon spinned around and bore his dark eyes into his steel grey ones. "Hypothetically, of course." Jon turned back. "Because I am valuable to you." Somehow everything started to feel unreal. Baelish had rounded the table and clicked his tounge. "Don't take the obvious one, it's too simple. Don't be simple." Jon started to feel unwell as his advisor stepped next to him, the step too close, as ever. "Because I am valuable to something that is valuable to you." Their eyes met in the reflection of the window and Jon corrected: "Someone." He smiled a radiant smile which, Jon was sure of, had made greater men than himself scared witless. "Here we go.. knowledge is power.." Petyr Baelish whispered, his lips almost touching his ear. Jon smelled mint and felt slightly nauseatic ".. or a road into hell. It depends." "Depends on what?" "The kind of man." It was clearly a threat as well as a test, but Jon couldn't get himself to really worry about the outcome the way he probably should. Death itself lost a lot of thrill the moment you've done it once. "Knowledge rises you up above all the ignorance in this world. Above all those simple minds who are clinging to their desire for illusions. So tell me, what do you want, Jon Snow? And what exactly do you know?" Baelish used his bastard name on a purpose to annoy him. But all it did to him was remembering Ygritte. He felt his anger disappear into something meaningless and smiled sadly. Some things were important. Some weren't. He turned his face to look at the man who had been able to make his sister feel something similar. Did he love her despite all he did to her? He didn't understand him. Probably never would. But somehow he felt, Sansa was their common ground, their chance to get along. He realized, he accepted the crown for her. To be able to change something. For her he wanted the world to be a better place. And somehow he was convinced, that was something, they both could build on even if he didn't approve of Petyr Baelishs methods. He chose his next words carefully. "Once, I thought I knew everything. I wanted to belong somewhere. I wanted love. Honour. Respect. I wanted to do something great to prove myself. To not be looked down upon. Maybe I would have really liked to be king." he locked his eyes to his again. "Today, all I want is the person I love the most to be happy again. She deserves the world. A better world. Not this pathetic excuse. In addition to that, I know nothing. And I really don't want to." Baelish stared at him as if he'd never seen him before, then stepped abruptly out of his comfort zone. A precious moment Jon saw him loose some of his composure before he rounded the table and stood back at the opposite side. When he turned and bowed his head he was back to normal but smiled an almost genuine smile. "Well your Grace, now that we know each other so well, you wished something to discuss?"

When Jon was finally left alone, he was totally exhausted. His head throbbed and he pressed it down onto the cool surface of the table. He would prefer to fight a thousand white walkers in the ice desert with his bare hands rather than having that conversation again. But gladly, he wouldn't have to. He had won an advocate for his case and hopefully lost an enemy in the same run. Jon rolled his head to the side and looked into the troubled face of his Lord Hand. "Boy, seven hells! For a second I thought you'd be dead. Again." Jon groaned. "Could be an improvement. Gods, my head is killing me." "What the.. what's going on here?" "What what?" Davos stared him down. Jon pondered for a few moments, if he should tell him, but there was no way, he wouldn't find out anyway. He groaned again. "I planned to befriend him. But then I offended him and I told him instead I know he detests me." Davos face went blank. "I told him, that this feeling is mutual and I also find him to own no trace of honour or decency. From then it went downhills." Davos clenched his teeth. "If you have a death wish, you could have just told me." Jon chuckled and finally lifted his head off the table. "Then I asked him to find me a fucking way for me to not having to marry Sansa off to some fucking strategically important lord." "That were your exact words?" "Not quite, but roughly, yes." "And he agreed." "Yes." Davos looked into Jons direction but seemed to watch a point slightly above his head. "And you won't be found with your crown stuck up your ass and a sliced throat anytime soon." Jon chuckled again. "No, I don't think so." Davos nodded. "Good. I am not going to ask why, but good." Jon buried his head in his hands and for a while none of them said a word. "Davos?" "Hmmm." "At one point I admit, I almost shit my pants." Davos seemed to come back from somewhere very far away and stared at him, still slightly irritated. "You know, I think that is the most sensible part of everything you've just done."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa cannot forgive a man who never regrets. Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter this week. But I will continue this one.  
> English isn't my first language. Be nice.

"Your brother talked to me." She didn't look up. "Did he?" "About you." "About me?" "He proved his diplomatic abilities by declaring first me to be scum and asking me afterwards to help him. Literally within the same breath." Sansa couldn't suppress a twitching of her lips. She stopped her sewing and lifted er eyes. "Are you?" Petyr Baelish chuckled. "I'd prefer if you wouldn't respond with a two word question to everything I say. And I am slightly offended by the last one. Really, this is serious. The Dragon Queen - who I heard is a very enticing woman - invited, no practically ordered him to a meeting at Dragonstone. He shouldn't go. I start to believe even I cannot imagine the possible outcome and the consequences, not in my most advanced nightmares." "You aren't as delusional to believe, he will sent you, aren't you?" "No, but I dare to hope, he will send you." Sansa watched his hands to not look into his face. She didn't want to see the warmth there, his voice held. "And, are you helping him?" "I think so." "What is the matter?" "Marriage." Her head snapped up and she felt her heart stop a beat. "No.. he would never ever.. he wouldn't do that to me. He.. what did you do?" She felt something creep along her spine and swallowed hard. "What, tell me." He still smiled at her slightly bemused. "I did nothing. He asked me to stay after the counsel meeting and we had a very.. let's say interesting conversation." "Do you think I am stupid? Yesterday he would have killed you, gladly I might add, and today, out of the blue, he wants you to marry me? I don't believe you." For a moment he stared at her before he laughed out loud. "I am sorry. Yes I guess, if that were the case, I wouldn't believe myself. No. I haven't suggested that, but I think I shouldn't push my luck any further today." He chuckled again. Sansa didn't know what to make of the unusual outburst and tried to think of a different meaning of his words. "He needs your advice because he wants to marry..?" She asked slowly when the real meaning hit her hard. "No." Her eyes widened in shock. "Don't tell me he asked you to find me a husband." Sansa felt her hands starting to tremble. "You? You are absolutely insane, both. Why you? Because you did such a fucking good job the last time, didn't you..?" Her voice was ice. "Go. And tell my loving brother, before I marry someone Lord Baelish approves of, I'd rather marry the Night King himself. Go." "Sweetling.." "Don't call me that." He sighed, but made no efforts to leave.

"I told you, I'm sorry." "Do you think, that make it never happened?" "Shall I apologize every day of my life? If it's what you want, I'll do it." "Maybe you should." "Will that cause it to unhappen?" "No." "What's the point then?" "What the point is? What the.. " She tried to calm down. "Did you know?" "I told you I didn't." "You told many things." "I swear to you I didn't. Yes, I knew of his.. violent tendencies. I believed him to be highly intelligent, I still do. But somewhere at an emotional layer he is completely disfunctional. It overrides every rational behaviour." Sansa stared at him. "Some people might say the same about you." Petyr had his arms crossed an leaned at the doorframe. "You think me cruel? I only did, what was right then." "Of course, right. Are you done now?" "Swee.. Sansa. I apologize for all you've gone through because of my miscalculations. But I won't apologize for what I did. Because in the same situation, with the same information, I would do it again. I didn't knew, what he would do. I never believed he could do what he did. I chose the best available option, as I always do. Thats what I am. And I won't apologize for what I am either." "And what do you think you are? Because I asked myself the same question numerous times the last months and I came to some very creative answers. Even Ser Davos would be blushing." "I am every decision I ever made. And it doesn't matter, if they were right, wrong, good or bad. They were mine. I never ask, what would be, if I could right a wrong. The past is gone." "Maybe you would be another man. A better man." He smiled. "I don't want to be a better man. I want to be a man who knows, his life is not just everything that happend to him because he wasn't able to make a decision. My life won't be the decisions made by other men." "And yet you gave the decision to end it to me. Why did you know I wouldn't do it?" He pushed away from the doorframe, walked slowly through the small chamber and stopped in front of her. "I didn't know. But when you stood there, abused and half starved and looked at me.. for one terrible moment, it didn't matter." He reached out as if to touch her hair, but retreated as she flinched before he actually did and dropped his hand. "Please. Go. Leave me alone." she choked out and he nodded. "I just wanted you to know that I plan to convince the council, that you do not need to marry for allegiance purposes at all. You'll never have to marry again, unless you want to. I owe you that decision. It finally will be yours." The lump in her throat made it impossible to reply anything. After a while he bowed his head to her. "I'll do my best. I always do. Even if you don't believe me." He was halfway through the door and her thanks were barely more than a whisper, but she knew he'd heard her all the same.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something had to be wrong with her. Terribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short one.

Sansa stared at her needlework. It had to be the worst she produced since being seven years old. She threw it at the door and finally gave into the urge of crying and buried her face in her hands. Something had to be wrong with her. She shouldn't feel this way. She shouldn't feel anything at all. But she couldn't help it. She wanted to hit him and scream into his face. Put her hands at his throat and make him feel everything that seemed unbearable to her. All the fear, desperation and pain that came with that other feeling she tried to bury so deep, she sometimes thought, she might have accidentally digged into hell. Most of their last recent conversations left her that way. It shouldn't matter to her anymore what he said. It wouldn't, if she knew his words to be empty. But although he might not tell her everything and lied to everyone else without a second thought, she knew he didn't lie to her. Hadn't for quite a time. What he said, was the truth and it might hurt her, but it was the truth and a privilege she shared with no one else. "My love," he'd called her. It wasn't a lie, but that didn't mean, he wouldn't put her on the line, if he found it reasonable. And 'reasonable' was a very fickle thing with him when it came down to matters of the heart. One day, he could act emotional to a fault and the other he was the most ignorant, selfish ass known to mankind. There was no love without trust. Even if she could forget, the marks on her body would remind her the rest of her days. She didn't knew what to do anymore. Maybe she should marry, just to get away from all that. Marry someone who let her be blissfully numb. Someone with whom she'd be safe. Someone whose touch didn't burn. Whose words meant nothing. Who couldn't turn her into this sobbing mess without even trying. Who didn't see her, knew her, made her. A simple man, with simple needs. She winced when she tried to imagine such a man and her mind conjured a frightening mixture of Harrold Hardyng and her own father. What was it with Petyr Baelish, that he could turn her from a queen into less than nothing and back again with not so much more than a word, a touch, a smile? Everytime she'd picked herself halfway together, he took the numbness again, made her feel dark things and think dark thoughts. And everytime she was utterly ashamed of it, until she looked into his eyes and saw the same demons living there, staring back and knowing. Always knowing. In these short moments the shame was gone and they were the same. Awfully broken creatures in a world with no more songs. And he dared her to accept it, to stop trying to be something else. Dared her to take the risk and his hand. Something had to be wrong with her, because the Gods might help her, she knew, one more kiss could cost her life. And for one terrible moment, it didn't matter.


End file.
